


fever dream

by vitale



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23033083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitale/pseuds/vitale
Summary: “So this whole time, you were—What? Pulling my pigtails?” Adam says a little hysterically. “Did I fall through time and go back to middle school?”“Fuck off,” Ronan grunts out. He does look a little embarrassed, though, and the fact that he doesn’t deny it isn’t lost on Adam. Adam wonders if he hit his head when he fell and this is all a very elaborate post-concussion dream.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 10
Kudos: 318





	fever dream

Adam should have known better.

 _He definitely should’ve known better_ , he thinks as he stumbles up the last few steps to his floor, hand tightly gripping the banister. Should have known better than to rent a place in a building without an elevator, for one thing, but that isn’t really at the top of Adam’s list of concerns right now.

He could have rescheduled the meeting. Adam knows Gansey wouldn’t have held it against him; Gansey would have _forced_ Adam to stay home if he knew Adam was nursing a fever of what felt like at least 102 degrees and that he almost faceplanted onto his floor that morning when he first tried to get up. Adam had spent the night hoping the dull ache in his throat and the faint chills running through his body would subside by morning, but as is rather the norm for him, luck wasn’t on his side. Adam just wanted to crawl under his covers and fall back asleep, but he had an important team meeting that morning, so Adam had forced himself out of bed, swallowed two Ibuprofens, and went to work.

And Adam had made it through the meeting. Adam thinks the sheer humiliation of passing out in front of your boss and four other employees was the only thing keeping him upright. Adam could feel his symptoms getting worse throughout the day, though, and by the time the meeting was wrapped and he was climbing into a taxi, Adam felt so sick he thought he was going to faint.

Adam fumbles blindly for his keys, hoping to God that he didn’t leave them in the office in his haste. He’s shivering so hard his teeth are chattering and his entire body feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The throbbing pain in his head is making it hard to think, and his legs feel so heavy, and he feels so damn _cold._ So cold it’s making him lightheaded, and his vision is starting to blur, and _god, where the hell are his goddamn keys—_

Adam makes it to his door before he completely blacks out.

———

He wakes up in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar couch, and his brain immediately goes into panic mode.

The rising panic in his chest isn’t at all quelled when his eyes fall on the surly-looking person sitting on a chair on the other side of the room.

“You woke up,” the guy—who Adam registers belatedly is _Ronan Lynch,_ Adam’s neighbor and possibly the last person Adam wants to see right now—declares flatly. He’s crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Adam from across the room with a bored expression on his face. The whole situation is so outlandish Adam thinks he’s having fever-induced hallucinations for a second.

Adam opens his mouth and closes it again, his throat too dry to speak, which is probably for the best because he’s not sure what words would have come out of his mouth.

Ronan Lynch gives him a piercing look, gets up from his chair, and leaves the room without a word.

Adam rubs his face, still half-conscious, and struggles to find his bearings. He doesn’t remember anything after passing out, and no logical course of events can explain how he ended up on _Ronan Lynch’s couch_ of all fucking people. Had he been so out of it he tried to open Ronan’s door instead of his own? Though Adam has a hard time believing Ronan would have just let him in and carried him to his couch.

“Did you kidnap me?” Adam asks when Ronan walks back into the room. It’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out sounding rather earnest. Ronan gives him an incendiary look Adam doesn’t think is warranted considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you. Drink this.”

Adam eyes the glass warily. Ronan scowls and looks two seconds away from throwing the content in Adam’s face.

“It’s just water, Jesus.”

Adam eventually relents and takes a sip. He supposes for all that Adam can’t think of a single person who has ever gotten on his nerves as much as Ronan Lynch, the guy doesn’t strike him as a serial killer or someone who would put a drug in someone’s drink.

“What am I doing here?” Adam mumbles. His throat feels like he just swallowed a box of nails.

“Found you passed out in the hallway.”

Adam thinks he deserves a little more explanation than that, but Ronan doesn’t look like he’s planning on saying anything else.

“And you just dragged me into your house?” Adam presses. It comes out sounding more aggravated than he intends.

“Are you seriously mad I didn’t leave you out there?” Ronan says, clearly exasperated.

“You could have called 911,” Adam says, just for the sake of arguing. Adam _definitely_ wouldn’t have wanted Ronan to call 911, but it seems Adam doesn’t know how to interact with Ronan Lynch without picking a fight regardless of context.

Except Ronan doesn’t say anything back, just stares at Adam with a frown etched between his eyebrows. The uncharacteristic silence coupled with the voice in the back of Adam’s head helpfully letting him know that he’s acting like an ungrateful prick mellow Adam out, and he lets out a tired sigh.

“Never mind.”

“You have a fever,” Ronan informs him like Adam can’t tell. Though Adam supposes most normal people wouldn’t be out and about if their fever was bad enough to make them black out, so he can’t really blame Ronan for assuming Adam didn’t know.

“I feel like shit,” Adam mutters. He doesn’t realize he said it out loud until Ronan hums in response.

“You got pills at your place?”

“Hm, hm.”

“You can stay until you feel like you’re not gonna pass out if you try to stand.”

Adam snorts. “Yeah, you don’t want me to stay here any longer than I already have.”

Ronan crosses his arms defensively. “And what makes you say that?”

“You hate me,” Adam says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which, as much as it is true, is definitely not something Adam would say under normal circumstances. Curse his lack of brain-to-mouth filter when he’s ill.

“I don’t hate you,” Ronan grits out, and has the nerve to roll his eyes at Adam. “Don’t project onto me, Parrish.”

Adam is so surprised by that it takes him a moment to answer. “ _Project_? You’re always snapping at me and doing your best to piss me off.”

“Not my fault me doing anything translates to _trying to piss off Adam Parrish_ in your book.”

“Don’t even pretend like it’s just me.”

“Okay, when’s the last time I got out of my way to piss you off?”

Adam _knows_ there are many examples of this, but Adam can’t come up with a specific answer. He blames it on the fever. “Well, you’re so obnoxious all the time it’s hard to say when you’re doing it on purpose and when you aren’t.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the fever, but he thinks he sees a hurt expression cross Ronan’s face before he hides it behind his usual mask of cool indifference. Adam is too out of it to even try to interpret it anyway.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re obsessed with me, Parrish.”

Adam doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“You know what,” he starts, increasingly aware that he’s sounding like a petulant child but unable to stop, “Let me just go home and pretend this whole thing never happened.”

“Suit yourself,” Ronan sneers, baring his teeth.

Adam glares at him, steels himself, and pushes himself off the couch.

Of course, the room spins around Adam the second he’s on his feet. Ronan is immediately there with an arm around his waist, and Adam wonders if dying of a fever would really be so bad.

“Wow.”

Adam refuses to meet Ronan’s eye as Ronan helps him sit back down on the couch.

“You should stay until you feel better,” Ronan says again, sounding weirdly subdued. Adam’s anger deflates like a balloon.

“Right.”

There’s an awkward silence, and Adam _almost_ apologizes for his outburst, but the words die on his tongue as soon as he thinks them. He still doesn’t know why Ronan is denying that he dislikes him, but Adam figures Ronan taking pity on him and dragging Adam into his apartment instead of leaving him passed out on the cold hard floor is the worst possible time Adam could have chosen to have this conversation. Another thing he’s blaming on the fever.

“Hm, you don’t have to stay with me. I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Adam hopes it sounds like a peace offering and not like a _“I’m telling you to get lost in your own house”._

Ronan doesn’t make any move to leave, though, and his silence is starting to make Adam seriously uncomfortable. He would almost prefer Ronan’s regular brand of snark and snappy comebacks.

“Do you really think I hate you?” Ronan asks after a few minutes of quiet. It takes Adam by surprise and his temper flares up for a second, but Ronan’s tone doesn’t sound confrontational, merely curious and something else Adam can’t really put his finger on.

“Maybe hate is a strong word,” Adam concedes dubiously, unconvinced even as he says it. “I just mean—You clearly don’t like me very much.”

“You know, if pissing you off meant I hated you, I would hate everyone in my life.”

“That doesn’t make as much sense as you think it does,” Adam says dryly, unsure what Ronan is getting at.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Ronan says after a few seconds. Something in the way he says it strikes Adam as odd, makes him want to ask him to explain. It clearly matters to Ronan in some capacity if he’s making such a big deal out of it.

“Look, hm, thanks for bringing me here and letting me stay, really,” Adam manages to get out instead, pointedly avoiding Ronan’s gaze. It sounds lame and rather insincere after his tantrum earlier, but he knows he owes Ronan at least that. “And, uh, thanks for not calling 911.”

An amused smile pulls at Ronan’s lips.

“Figured you would have me arrested for that.”

Adam can’t help but smile back.

“You should have more water,” Ronan says, breaking eye contact. He looks at the almost empty glass, then gets up again and takes it to the kitchen to refill it. Adam stares after him, tries to wrap his head around a considerate Ronan Lynch who carries Adam to his house and refills his water glass and tells him to stay as long as he wants, then quickly gives up before he can make his headache worse.

He thinks he might have to reassess his opinion on Ronan Lynch after this, but that’s a matter for another day when Adam isn’t feeling like death warmed over.

“Why do _you_ hate me anyway?” Ronan blurts out one glass of water later, immediately looking annoyed at himself for bringing it up again. Adam shoots him a baffled look.

“You’re not going to let that go?”

“Well, you’re here for a while, so I might as well make conversation.”

“I should probably rest my throat.”

“Oh so _now_ you don’t want to talk about how obnoxious you think I am.”

Adam purses his lips and sits up straighter on the couch. “I... didn’t say I hated you.”

Ronan lifts a brow at him.

“Okay, fine. You just—I can’t believe I have to say this, but have you not noticed we argue every time we meet?”

“So?”

Adam almost throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Is that a real question?”

“I argue with everyone. And I thought we were just... I don’t know. Joking around.”

“Joking around.”

Ronan averts his gaze, looking more embarrassed than Adam ever remembers seeing him. Either Ronan has very weird interpersonal relationships or Adam is severely misremembering most of his encounters with him, because Adam can’t remember the last time they talked to each other without one of them storming off or less than flattering words being thrown around.

“Well, generally if someone’s neighbor made a snide comment every time they saw them and picked a fight every time they talked to them, they would assume said neighbor hated them.”

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. I was just—”

Ronan stops himself and stares at the scarf draped over the back of the couch like he wishes he could strangle himself with it. Adam’s patience runs out after five seconds.

“Just what?” Adam asks.

“Forget it.”

“So, let me get this straight. This whole time, you thought we had a good, perfectly normal neighborly relationship.”

Ronan still doesn’t look at him, so Adam throws in the towel.

“You are so weird.”

“I like you,” Ronan blurts out suddenly. Adam’s heart skips a beat for some strange reason before he realizes what Ronan meant.

“Well, you have a weird way of showing your neighborly love," Adam mutters after a beat, still trying to make sense of the idea.

“That’s. Not.” Ronan takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose. Adam stares at him curiously, getting the distinct impression that he’s missing an important piece of the puzzle.

“Not what?”

“You know, for someone as smart as you are, you can be really slow.”

“Thanks for the backhanded compliment.”

“Whatever,” Ronan huffs grumpily, turning away from him.

“What did you mean?”

“What?”

“You said I’m slow. Why?”

“Forget it.”

“Come on.”

“I’m not exactly talking in riddles, Parrish. I literally did spell it out for you.”

“Spell out _what_?”

Ronan gives him a frustrated look. Adam scrunches up his nose and replays their conversation in his head. Ronan had claimed that, despite almost two years of picking fights with him and riling Adam up every chance he got (which was apparently just Ronan _joking around with him)_ , he didn’t actually dislike Adam. Which, as hard to believe as it was, wasn’t too shocking once Adam took into account Ronan’s lousy social skills the few times Adam had seen him interact with someone else. It clearly wasn’t just an Adam thing. Still, though, Ronan couldn’t blame Adam for assuming that he hated him. Their relationship had been antagonistic from the start, and despite what little progress they had made after the first few months, their interactions were still everything but friendly, at least on Adam’s end. But now Ronan was telling him that he didn’t mean to come off like that, and that it was apparently all a huge misunderstanding. He had even said that he _liked_ Adam, crazily enough, and then he had called him slow for not catching on—

Oh.

Oh, oh, _oh._

Adam gapes at Ronan like a fish. The realization must be clear as day on his face, because Ronan’s face shifts through a wide range of emotions before settling on something between defiance and resignation.

“You—No way.”

“Shut up.”

“No way,” Adam gasps, unable to process it. Ronan glares fiery daggers at him, but it’s significantly dampened by the heat crawling up his neck and the fact that he looks two seconds away from bolting out of the room and never coming back.

Adam’s ability to form coherent words has obviously dissolved into nothing, because all he can do is stare at Ronan like he has just sprouted a second head.

“Don’t. Make a big deal out of it.”

He’s staring furiously at the wall instead of looking directly at Adam, and his body is so tense Adam worries he might snap any second. It occurs then to Adam that Ronan must be genuinely worried about Adam’s reaction. Adam isn’t a complete asshole, and he wants to tell Ronan that this is okay and put him out of his misery, but the words get stuck in his throat before he can get them out.

But Ronan is looking increasingly nervous and like he’s going to start hyperventilating any second, and Adam forces himself to snap out of it.

“It’s—Uh. Alright then.”

Ronan glances at him from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. Adam does his best to school his expression into something more collected.

“You look like you’re going to pass out again,” Ronan drawls out. He’s still red as a beet, but his breathing is more even, and he finally stops avoiding Adam’s gaze.

“I don’t think I am,” Adam reassures him, sitting up straighter for good measure. He runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. “This is—Unexpected.”

Ronan rolls his eyes, but he’s still looking at Adam suspiciously, like Adam might suddenly blow up at him. It makes something in Adam’s chest clench a little.

“You’re not gonna freak out?”

“No,” Adam says quietly, though he’s very much freaking out internally.

“ _That_ is unexpected.”

“Hey,” Adam starts, before settling on honesty. “Okay, I’m freaking out a little. But it’s fine.”

“Is it the gay part or the _me_ part?”

“Definitely not the gay part,” Adam rushes to clarify. “I’m, uh, gay. Well, bi. Point is, that’s not—It’s just. I really did think you hated me until an hour ago.”

Ronan shrugs, looking wholly unapologetic.

“So this whole time, you were—What? Pulling my pigtails?” Adam says a little hysterically. “Did I fall through time and go back to middle school?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan grunts out. He does look a little embarrassed, though, and the fact that he doesn’t deny it isn’t lost on Adam. Adam wonders if he hit his head when he fell and this is all a very elaborate post-concussion dream.

“But how— _Why_?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Parrish?”

Adam glowers at him. “Am _not._ I’m just trying to understand.”

“Is that so hard to believe? I’m sure you have other people falling all over you.”

Adam elects to ignore that last part for his own sanity. “Not the point. All we do is fight and yell at each other.”

Ronan shrugs again. “I don’t mind the fighting. Keeps me on my toes. Also, you’re hot, so it makes up for it.”

He says it so matter-of-factly Adam doubts he meant it as a compliment, but Adam feels himself flush all the way down to his toes nonetheless. _Fucking Lynch._

“Are you sure it’s not just because I’m the only person you interact with on a regular basis?” Adam says in an attempt to cover it up.

Ronan gives him a sardonic smile. “See, you’re funny, too.”

Adam has to break eye contact.

Ronan gives him an hesitant look, playing with the leather bands around his wrists. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m not gonna make it weird.”

“I’m not worried,” Adam says sincerely. Sure, Adam will need some time to adjust to the idea, and he still can’t believe how terribly Ronan has handled the whole thing and how subpar his flirting skills—if they can even be called that—are, but all things considered, Adam isn’t bothered by the revelation of Ronan’s feelings nearly as much as he thinks he should be.

Actually, Adam is almost surprised by how much he _doesn’t_ mind.

Before Adam can think too hard about the implications of that, he’s overtaken by a coughing fit.

“Thanks,” Adam mumbles as Ronan offers him another glass of water. Adam is suddenly very aware of the way Ronan’s cold fingers briefly brush against his.

“I should go,” Adam says, wincing when his throat protests painfully. He takes another sip and hands the glass back to Ronan.

“Okay. You need anything?” Ronan asks evenly.

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” Adam says, doing his best to sound appreciative. This whole Ronan-being-nice-to-him thing is still very new to him, but Adam thinks he can get used to it.

“You can call me if you need anything.”

Ronan’s voice sounds painfully awkward. Adam magnanimously decides not to point it out.

“Okay,” Adam says as gently as he can. He figures the least he can do is not make it harder for Ronan. “Uh, I don’t have your number.”

Ronan freezes in his tracks, and then he makes a face like he just bit into a lemon.

“I didn’t say that just so you would—”

“Oh my god, Lynch, just give me your number.”

Adam calls Ronan back, just to prove to him that if anyone is making things weird, it is _not_ Adam.

Adam manages to cross the distance between Ronan’s living room and his front door without feeling like he’s going to topple over. Ronan hovers awkwardly behind him, hands in his pockets. Ronan opens the door for him, and Adam lingers on the doorstep.

“Well, thanks again. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

Ronan nods, then opens his mouth. Adam waits, but Ronan doesn’t say anything, just works his mouth for a moment before closing it again.

“Do you think,” Ronan starts right when Adam turns away, making him pause. “When you feel better. Do you think we could—”

Ronan trails off, then turns an extreme shade of red and looks like he would like nothing more than for the ground to open up underneath him. Adam thinks he has an idea of what Ronan wants to say, and it occurs to him that he didn’t _technically_ reject Ronan yet, at least not outright. Was Ronan really about to _ask him out_?

Would Adam say yes?

Adam lets himself play with the idea. His knee-jerk response is _no, of course not,_ but he knows it’s not exactly true even as he thinks it. Of course, Adam wasn’t blind, and he’d noticed in a very detached sort of way that Ronan was extremely attractive in the past, but it was largely overshadowed by the train wreck that was his personality. But now? Even though Adam still maintained that it was not his fault and that anyone else would have reacted the same way, Adam could admit that he had clearly misunderstood a great deal about Ronan Lynch. At the very least, Ronan is more than the selfish, self-centered dickhead Adam had him pegged as. Adam still isn’t sure if they could ever be friends, let alone more, but if Ronan wanted to give it a try, would Adam really be against it?

No, Adam doesn’t think he’d be entirely opposed to the idea.

“Do you think we could grab dinner sometime,” Ronan says so fast Adam almost doesn’t catch it. Ronan is looking everywhere but at Adam, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and part of Adam is thoroughly impressed with his ability to put himself out there even when it doesn’t look like it’s going to pay off.

“Sure,” Adam finds himself saying, almost surprising himself. He waits for the urge to take it back, but it doesn’t come.

Ronan looks equal parts incredulous and cautiously hopeful, but he bites his lip and shakes his head at Adam. “Don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

Adam snorts. “Trust me, Lynch, you couldn’t pressure me into anything I didn’t want to do.”

Ronan stares at Adam for a moment longer before letting out a small exhale. He gives Adam a minute nod, and his lips tug slightly upward at the corner.

It’s a while before Adam realizes he has no reason to still be standing there.

“I’ll be going, then,” Adam says uselessly, forcing himself to look away.

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Drink lots of water, Parrish,” Ronan says with the kind of smile Adam would have sworn was mocking him before today, but that he can now recognize as playful teasing.

“Right,” Adam says, rolling his eyes a little.

He smiles back at Ronan before walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> i was pretty sick lately so naturally i had to write about my favorite boy being sick as well  
> also i literally just made a [writing tumblr](https://magiccparrish.tumblr.com) (like, 10 minutes before posting this) so pls consider reblogging my fics if you can :3 and feel free to chat with me and send me prompts although i can't promise i'll write them 


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